Oracle: A Story from The Reels

by Brian Ewing

  “Camille was involved in a bust three weeks earlier to this conversation with the Captain. She got a call over the radio about domestic violence in a slum house. Her and her partner at the time were in the area and first to arrive on scene and were waiting on uniforms for backup. Camille heard what sounded like a child cry from within the apartment and put a plan into action. Her partner told her to wait until backup arrived and word around the precinct is, she told him to nut up or put in his papers.”

  Once again, as somber day as it was, sad laughter arose, remembering the fire Caden held in her soul.

  “So, she told her partner she would break the window and blind the guy with her Maglite, shouting out his position and if it was clear, to take a shot. So, this woman, guts above all, took out her Maglite and, instead of smashing the glass, went to the opposite end of the floor and charged across the hall until she jumped through the damn window, causing the guy inside to be shocked anyone would do that, let alone a woman scratching barely over five feet. The man, staring at this lunatic of a detective—Caden noticed he was so stunned he let the woman and child outside his reach so Caden shouted out the go-ahead, letting her partner kick in the door and light the abusive prick with fifty-thousand volts.”

  Everyone kept laughing, some cheering and clapping.

  “That is why I told my captain I would take the perfectionist. The hotshot was too much for me. He said too bad, it’s you and Caden next shift.”

  A roar erupted in the front row of officers, the comradery and brotherhood showing its love for the fallen officer.

  “I love ya, kid. You made me a better detective, more importantly a better man.”

  A few more speakers had gone up to the podium to relay memories that continued to compliment the personality of Caden, followed by a prayer from the priest at the request of her parents. The endcap to the event was the elite sign of respect of a fellow brother or sister in arms once it was time for their “end of watch.” A row of officers with rifles and blank ammunition lined up and systematically shot off the three-volley salute. It was a beautiful ceremony. Sisto opted to wait by the car as people walked up to the casket to say their goodbyes. Sisto looked around at all the headstones. The field of shrines made Sisto think about what Ama had brought up. Sisto hoped Ojibwe had a line in the spirit world and would just have Caden come visit him, when she felt he was ready. Sisto watched as Bell shook Caden’s father’s hand, hugged her mother, and saluted her siblings. Sisto didn’t feel like he deserved to convey his condolences to the grieving family. Bell unlocked his door, then hit the button to unlock the passenger side.

  “You know, Cami fought for you the whole time you were working cases with us?” Bell said, trying to break the silence that held half the ride back from the service.

  “She saw something in you. I saw bullshit, if I am being honest.” He continued, “I never understood because I thought she had been the smartest person I ever met. For her to say she believed in your mumbo-jumbo didn’t sit right with me. No matter the reaction she knew she would get from me, she called it how she saw it.”

  “Yeah, she had the tendency to do that,” Sisto agreed.

  “I guess, what I am getting at is I know you got a meeting with Jenkins on Monday. If he offers to keep you on, I think Cami would like if you did.”

  The statement caught Sisto off-guard.

  “You want me to keep working cases with you?”

  “God no . . . but, Cami would have wanted it that way. So, all I am saying is you should think about it.”

  “I got Ama printing out some of the info she was able to pull up on Michael Dyer last week. We never got to it since Carson killed him and we caught Carson, but she brought it up earlier that it may be something you guys need for evidence purposes. I was gonna bring it in on Monday when I speak to the captain. Will you be there?”

  “I am on leave for two weeks, but Jenkins asked me to come in to wrap up a few things. I may be there, if not you can give it to Capt.”

  Nodding his understanding, the rest of the drive was as silent as the beginning of the ride back.

  CHAPTER 31

  Sisto decided he was going to get blackout drunk after he changed out of his suit. Ripping the tie undone, he swung off the clothes and rehung them because, even as depressed as he was, he hated to iron or dry clean anything. He threw the pants on the hanger, jacket over it, and threw the tie over the pants so they would all be together if he ever had the unfortunate need to put them on in the future. Standing in boxers, he walked to the mirror of his bathroom to assess himself. His eyes were lined pink, puffy around the lids. He had cried more in the last week than he had in eight years. While he never really enjoyed shaving clean, he had done so for Craig’s wake back on Thursday and now the two-day release of hair was starting to slowly bring back a face he recognized. He usually sported a week’s worth of beard growth, maybe two, using clippers to keep it somewhat clean. He looked into his own glossed-over eyes, the shine pulled the specs of yellow and grey out of the blue, giving a very convincing replica of designer marbles. The words Bell spoke on the ride back kept eating away at his thoughts. Caden really would have wanted him to continue to put his gift to good use. All he wanted to do was crawl into a bottle and move to some remote location where it was just himself and the animals.

  After submerging his face in cold water, which had become a recent ritual in itself, he looked back up from the pool of water he drew out of the sink and watched the beads run down his face. In that moment, he made a compromise with himself. He decided he would get shit-face drunk later but needed to vent and maybe do one good thing for another before the day ended. Looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand as he turned the corner and went into the closet to grab a shirt and jeans, he noticed it was only five-fifteen. If he hurried, he could make the five-thirty bus that would take him to Reckman and Hollister. He doubted he would have time to stop at The Mud Mix, but there was a surge of emotion he needed to verbally release.

  The bus was closing its doors, about to leave, by the time Sisto got dressed and out the building and down the block to the bus stop. He sprinted the block and tapped on the closed bus doors, alerting the driver that he desperately needed the ride. Sisto forced himself to tap instead of punch a hole through the damn door, like he felt like doing. It worked in his benefit as the driver took the tap as a courtesy and not the inclination that he was a street maniac that would cause trouble. He showed his bus pass and grabbed the first open seat. As he looked around, it was more filled than it would be on say, a Tuesday, but not terribly crowded for a weekend. The traffic was also mild, allowing the driver, Bruce by the tag he wore, to get to his destination within twelve minutes. He thanked Bruce on his way out, telling him he had been a life saver for not disregarding his pleas to let him in, then exited the city vehicle and entered C.O.S. for a much-needed session.

  Sisto didn’t know who led the six o’ clock session but hoped it was Laura. Walking in, he glanced to the left to see Laura in the office, buried in paperwork.

  “Hi, Laura,” Sisto said.

  Looking up in concern, she said, “Jesus, Tom.”

  She bounced out of her seat and gave him a hug.

  “I am so happy you are alright. I heard on the news there was an officer slain, and . . .”

  “It’s been a rough week, Laura. I thought I would hit the final session tonight. I’ll try to keep it PG, well PG-13, and not scare off everyone else.”

  Laura smiled. “I appreciate that. Please, go ahead and get a coffee and Ted should be ready to start soon.”

  “Fuck, Ted is running the session? You know that guy has the hots for you and hates me, right?”

  “Yes, he has asked me out a few times. Why does he hate you, though?”

  “Jeez, I don’t know. I have keys to the place. You trust me. We have slept together. Take your pick.”

  A grin swept across her face, “Okay, fair enough. Well, if Ted doesn’t give you enough time to share, I will b
e here all night. Stop back on your way out and you are welcome to vent as much as you need. Plus, I need someone to help me with that bottle of Jamesons.”

  “Deal. Thanks Laura. I appreciate it.”

  Laura went back to her work as Sisto walked over to the coffee station to get a cup and assess who he would be pitted sitting next to during the session. There was an open seat next to the head chair, which would be filled by Ted. That was a “fuck no” if Sisto had ever felt the need to express it. Searching the other vacancies, he noticed Tara was not there, so that was nice. Come to think of it, none of the Monday regulars were there. No Tara, no Mickey, no Barry. He did recognize a guy around his age sitting on the opposite side of the circle from Ted’s seat. His name was Hunter. He was probably the same age as Sisto and started coming for sessions a few months back once his wife died of leukemia. Sisto remembered, because it was a sad story. The two had been married just over a year, had great jobs, great families, and loved one another very deeply. Hunter was a commercial real estate broker or something and made a ton of money. His wife and him had been on a trip to the Bahamas and they had been at some Luau where they had been drinking and dancing and having a blast. They were in the middle of a conga line when she collapsed. They took a flight back to the States to find she had been ignoring symptoms, which on their own could have been written off as stress or fatigue, but had been her body warning her that she had developed acute myeloid leukemia. She died with a month of the diagnosis. Hunter had all the money in the world, but it couldn’t buy his wife her health and he took a steady downfall the following months until he found C.O.S.

  Sipping on the cup of steaming hot coffee, he continued to scan the room. He couldn’t be sure with her back to him, but thought he recognized a woman named Gilda. Gilda was in her seventies and had been coming to C.O.S. over a year, if he remembered correctly. Gilda was a Saratoga City native. She was a teacher for thirty years and after retiring, chose to volunteer countless hours at the youth club, city library, wherever she felt she could do good. Gilda lost her husband to Parkinson’s many years before and her daughters moved away decades ago. Gilda had a tightknit group of people she kept herself around, mainly church friends. She had been mugged, poor thing. It shook her up badly as she was walking from the corner store to her city apartment she had moved into after her husband’s passing, citing there was no need for a big house for just herself. Some degenerate asshole clocked her in the back of the head, causing a concussion and leaving her for dead on the ground of the city street, all for a purse with nothing but eighty dollars and mints.

  Sisto saw Ted’s veneers before seeing his face, approaching from out of the office where Laura had just been. Once Ted greeted some of the closer visitors, he looked towards the back and saw Sisto. To Ted’s credit, he only slightly lost the fake smile he liked to plaster around the building. Everyone gathered and while Gilda liked to be a little too chatty for Sisto’s taste, he parked up a seat next to her.

  “Welcome everyone,” Ted began. “I see a lot of familiar faces. Everyone, I think. Is there anyone here that this is their first time?”

  One girl raised her hand, mid-twenties, and introduced herself as Star.

  “Would you like to start us off and explain what brought you here, Star?” Ted probed.

  Fucking asshole, Sisto thought. It probably took the girl a month to have the confidence to walk in the door, and now the disconnected prick was shining a spotlight on her.

  “Actually,” Sisto cut in, an instant sign of relief coming over Star’s face, “I would like to start, if that’s alright?”

  Visibly annoyed already, Ted simply nodded.

  “Hi everyone, my name is Sisto, um, Tom. Everyone just calls me Sisto, though.”

  A mix of “Hi, Tom” and “Hi, Sisto” came out from the circle in unison.

  “I have met a few of you over the years. I have been coming here for six or seven years now. I have a slew of problems. Some of you have heard the stories firsthand, some through the grapevine. I have had a really rough week and just needed to get it out.”

  “Tom, why don’t you start with your feelings?” a patronizing Ted chimed in.

  “Great idea, Ted.” Sisto spoke with false gratitude. “Well, I am a consultant for the Saratoga City Police Department. I have seen some of the worst that the city has to offer.”

  Getting a lot of nods, Sisto was trying to choose his words carefully but had no idea how to sugarcoat his last week.

  “I have been to two funerals this week.”

  Not exactly the tone he meant to set, but it had already started.

  “My best friend and my partner who I had feelings for, both murdered.”

  Ted squirmed as he became more uncomfortable at the direction the story was going.

  “That is so awful. I am so sorry for your losses, Tom.” Ted tried to cut Sisto off. “Is there anyone else that—”

  “I was being taunted by the son of the man that killed my brother and his family years ago and shot me and left me for dead.”

  All color now left Ted’s face, and an increasing smell of garlic came from his direction. Based on the glare Ted’s pale face was holding, Sisto wondered if he’d unlocked a new key in his sensory legend. Garlic seemed to be correlated to spite or hate, or maybe jealousy. Sisto knew Ted felt all three of those emotions for Sisto. Sisto had noticed the venting did have a small positive effect on his psyche and kept going.

  “The son blamed me for having his father get murdered in federal prison as I testified years ago and put him away. A sick plan of revenge drove him back here and he started killing people, blaming it on me but probably just an excuse to get his rocks off.”

  Everyone in the circle now had their full attention on him, most with jaws open, especially Star, who had to have been questioning what she had gotten herself involved in.

  “Anyways, I blame myself for my friend’s deaths and I know I should continue to try and help people, but right now I just feel that I do more damage than good to the people around me.”

  Ted, pinching the bridge of his nose, not knowing where to take a confession such as Sisto’s, took a moment before looking up at the group.

  “Do you put a lot of bad people away?” a mousey voice came out of Star’s direction.

  “Yes, I do,” Sisto admitted to himself.

  “Then I don’t think you should give up on anything. I think your friends were friends with you because you are selfless. Quitting would be going against that.”

  The young woman realized that most eyes had turned to her and she lowered her head again.

  She was not wrong. A woman who had never stepped foot in the circle or any support center before in her life had been able to say something factual that made sense off a five-minute analysis. Furthermore, it made Sisto feel slightly better and helped lean his decision on what he should do when speaking to Captain Jenkins on Monday. Looking over to Ted, Sisto really hoped he just took a lesson from the young woman. No formal training, just listening in acceptance and connecting with another human on a personal level. Sisto was sure that was not the case though, and Ted would be patronizing and condescending people for the next thirty years until he retired or got his ass kicked. Ted took the reins back and asked for someone else to share. Sisto gave the young woman a nod of thanks, and then smirked as she raised her hand to unleash whatever heartache had brought her to the circle.

  The session went better than expected, even with Ted at the helm. As Ted closed out the session with a quote from some asshole with a PhD like himself, everyone stood up to leave. Laura came out ten minutes beforehand and started breaking down the snack table. The sheet of pastries was vanquished before the evening session even started. She took the sheet along with one of the insulated coffee dispensers to the office and started cleaning them out. Ted grabbed the other coffee dispenser in an attempt to get some alone time with Laura. His childish antics made Sisto laugh, and he let it play out. Sisto stayed in the main room and starte
d folding the chairs. He had all the chairs folded and stacked on a flatbed dolly that they wheeled out from the corner each morning. He drove the stack back to the corner and returned to close the folding table and lay it next to the chairs. Rounding the corner, he caught Ted leaving the office door with a face like a little boy that didn’t get what he wanted. He moped with his head down out the door, not seeing that Sisto had been watching. Sisto approached the office door.

  “Everything good?”

  Laura looked up from her files and smiled an unconvincing smile.

  “Yes, just had to deny Ted once again. He has asked me out three times and hasn’t gotten the point.”

  “He is persistent, I’ll give him that,” Sisto said as he slid behind her chair and sat in the open chair to her right side.

  “How was the session?” she asked.

  “Good,” Sisto said, surprisingly meaning it. “I mean, Ted sucks, but the session was good.”

  Laura laughed a little harder than was warranted. Sisto noticed the lowball glass against the wall of the desk was empty but had a wet ring around it.

  “My, my,” Sisto said, “you start celebrating early?”

  Laura opened the left drawer and took out the bottle of liquor along with the glass she reserved for any guest she deemed worthy of sharing a drink.

  She poured the glass and handed it to him, along with refilling her own. They raised their glasses in a toast and slammed the shots of whiskey. The fire of the liquid burned going down. Sisto had been craving the feeling ever since leaving the funeral. He tasted a little chalkiness on the finish.

  “Jesus, when is the last time you rinsed these glasses, Laura?”

  Laura giggled as he grabbed both the glasses and went to the small sink next to the fridge and started to give them a quick rinse with some soap. He dried them off with paper towels and then set them back on the desk. Her desk had been cluttered with files. While there was no payment required to come to the center, her grants and donations as a non-profit mainly came from showing the amount of traffic and good she was providing for the community. She had a small file on everyone and had Xeroxed driver’s licenses on everyone by their third visit, not to scare them off beforehand, in case anyone went missing for an extended period of time. Laura loved what she did and wanted to keep her flock safe.